Off the Land

It all started with a downsizing. They let go five hundred people that day, me being one of them. It didn't matter that I had worked there for eight years, that I counted on that paycheck every two weeks. We were disposable in their goal of becoming more efficient, more reflective of the current economic conditions.

Even then, I was not worried. I had money saved up, as hard as it was on my salary. There was enough for six months of expenses while I found work. It wouldn't be too hard I thought. Six months was a long time and at worst I would take a job for lower pay to make ends meet.

But one month became two, then three, and before you knew it, it was six months and two interviews later, still unemployed. I had run out of money at the bank--at least not enough for the next month's rent. I stayed with friends for a while, but I could tell that I was wearing out my welcome. I don't see them anymore. I wonder how they are.

I packed up my belongings, pawned what I could, and put the rest in the car. I've lived in the car for two months now, getting gas money where I could, eating at soup kitchens, and getting some warm clothes for the winter from the thrift store. It will be getting cold soon and a car is no place to spend the winter. Even I don't know how long I can keep the car. Eventually I will have to sell that too I think. It's old, but maybe I can get enough for it for a few weeks in a cheap motel.

I still look for work, but it gets harder when I no longer look like a reputable potential employee. There is constant stubble on my face and my clothes are rumpled and unclean most of the time. Tonight, I staked out a restaurant's dumpster until they brought out fresh bags. I found what I could and brought it back to the car, which I can no longer afford the gas for. I think I will have to sell it.